Page 89 of Into the Isle

I still wasn’t convinced. “But if we don’t know for sure, then couldn’t the Taldan War have been caused by a huge . . . misunderstanding?”

Her hands came out from behind her back, forming a steeple in front of her. She showed no fury or disdain at my prying questions, yet her stare unnerved me all the same. “I appreciate your desire for the truth. Digging deep, even on the most basic truths of our shared history. That will suit you well moving forward, Ravinica.”

I smiled demurely. “Thank y—”

“However,” she said, raising a finger to cut me off. “One young woman’s rebellious spirit does not displace, disprove, or negate the hundreds of years of learned history of our people, scrawled by dozens of acolytes and scholars in that time. You are not the first to ask such questions, and I don’t blame you for them.”

My brow furrowed, deep lines forming in my forehead. “My . . . rebellious spirit, ma’am? It was just a question. Like you said, I’m only digging for the—”

“It’s in your nature, dear girl.”

My head reeled. This professor had known me less than forty-eight hours, and she could predict my “nature”? I shook my head adamantly. “No disrespect, Hersir Thorvi, but I’m not following. How do you figure?”

She splayed her hands out in front of her like it was the simplest thing, a look of pity on her face. “Well, because of your blood, of course. You’re half-elven yourself, no? It would only serve that the elf inside you motivates you to push back against our history—to whittle the truth down in order to satisfy your cursed bloodline’s perverse understanding of the world.”

I was too shocked to speak. The whole class fell silent as my mouth dropped, though I heard a few quiet murmurs and chuckles coming from initiates behind me in the rows.

I blinked wildly, and Thorvi simply gave me a kind smile. “You will see the records for yourself, in time, Initiate Linmyrr.”

She turned around to continue pacing, to answer another student’s question.

My shoulders slumped. Everything faded around me—her voice, the shuffling of her feet, the sounds of the dozens of students in the grand hall.

I realized I wasn’t going to get a fair shake here, no matter what I did. My cursed bloodline has followed me here. I wasn’t going to change anyone’s mind, because the hatred for elves—and the half-elves people called bog-bloods as a slur—was so ingrained in Vikingrune culture.

The pep and bounce I’d had earlier crashed and burned at my feet. I hung my head, relegating myself to my fate—not even being able to ask a fucking question without having my motives, my logic, and my damned mind questioned.

My dazed sorrow turned into heated anger. I gritted my teeth together, spiraling in the flames—

And something cool and startling landed on my hand in my lap, resting on my knuckles. It doused the fire inside me as quickly as it had started. It was an odd sensation.

I glanced down and saw swirling blue tattoos stamped on elegant, spindly fingers. Slowly, my gaze shifted left, to where Magnus sat and had reached over to . . . console me?

“Don’t worry, silvermoon, you’re not the only one whose blood has damned them.” His voice was low, promising, yet still lacking any emotion behind it. His gray eyes said nothing to me when I looked into the vacant expression there, yet his gesture said everything.

I wasn’t sure what he meant about his blood damning him, other than that he was allegedly undead, and maybe, therefore, bloodless.

A small, sad smile cracked my lips. “Thank you, Magnus.”

He nodded once and pulled his hand back. “Don’t forget to talk to Arne.”

My brow arched. He said no more. I tried to turn away to listen to Hersir Thorvi’s lecture. I was confused why he would mention Arne again, at a time like this . . .

Unless it has something to do with what we’re talking about—my bloodline, Vikingrune history, something like that.

Magnus was a bit of a riddle. I knew he wouldn’t answer more of my questions. Not now.

I didn’t need him to.

A second later, Thorvi’s last words replayed in my mind: “You will see the records for yourself, in time, Initiate Linmyrr.”

I sat up straighter. My eyes grew a bit wider.

The records room in Mimir Tomes. X marks the spot.

Like I’d imagined earlier, it was a clue to aid me, reigniting the passion of my pursuit for the people who wronged my family name and made people like Hersir Thorvi doubt everything about me.

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